To Betray a Loyal Dog
by NeonRoses
Summary: Sebastian must lure John Watson in, befriend him and then subtlety destroy him... all without Sebastian revealing his place as Moriarty's right-hand man. He'd do anything to make Jim proud. He'd do anything to weaken the great Sherlock Holmes... M Rated later


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: HEY! Please review if you'd like me to continue. It would mean a lot to hear your thoughts. Lots of love.**

Sebastian Moran was a soldier. No, not in the way you're thinking. Not a 'John Watson in Afghanistan' type of soldier, oh no. He was fighter, a warrior, and he soldiered on through things because that was his _job_. It was his job to kill with one shot and disappear into the darkness like a transparent mist, never to be found. Even if he _was_ ever found, which would be highly unlikely, he'd never let anyone trace him back to his boss, James 'Jim' Moriarty – the spider in the centre of the criminal web of London, England.

…

After drinking the last of his whiskey, Sebastian looked down at the picture his boss had given him earlier. It was of a man, possibly in his late thirties or early forties. He had short blond hair and a kind face. Not particularly striking in looks. Quite ordinary, but no doubt he was considered quite handsome to the majority of women. Apparently he was the best friend, flatmate and blogger of a one Mr Sherlock Holmes, detective and all-round genius extraordinaire - the detective with a range of sociopathic tendencies, but enough flair to make Jim Moriarty interested to an unsettling level.

Sebastian, being Jim's right-hand man, was notably jealous of the attention Jim was giving thistall, pale and exceedingly arrogant Holmes individual. And yet, he wanted to make Jim proud. He wanted to do the job he's just been assigned by said man.

The job was to befriend John Watson, the blond guy in the picture, and taint him beyond all recognition without him ever knowing that Sebastian was in Jim Moriarty's inner circle.

Jim Moriarty had assigned Sebastian to rip John Watson away from Sherlock Holmes with a subtlety that'd rot them both gradually down to the core. Only then, could Jim successfully strike his prey.

It was a warm summer evening and a group of twenty-something's were tottering around the terrace area of the pub after working hard in the city all day. Sebastian was dressed in casual clothes, an open and warm expression on his face for once – this, of course, was false. A mask.

Apparently Dr Watson comes to this pub after his surgery hours on a Friday night to enjoy a pint or two alone. Now and again he's known to bring a lady friend, or sometimes even Sherlock. But Moriarty's spies had told Sebastian that tonight was indeed an 'alone' night. Sebastian strode past the young junior executives who were getting more and more rowdy by the second and he went into the pub to stand idly by the bar. He ordered his drink and waited, still appearing light and approachable, ever the actor.

A few moments later, John walked in, seemingly tired as he strolled up to the bar and asked for his usual – whatever that was. Sebastian's eyes narrowed minimally before he decided to fire up some conversation. It was awfully quiet inside the pub after all. Everybody else was outside enjoying the warming pink sunset.

"Good day, was it, mate?"

John looked over. Was that a look of suspicion in his dark blue eyes? Wow, it seems living with Sherlock must do that to you. After a moment though, his gaze softened.

"Could've been better," he replied. "Surgery was packed. Bizarre amount of flu for summer. There must be something going round."

Sebastian nodded, feigning interest. "You're a doctor then, I take it?"

"Yeah, that's right." John was staring down at his drink.

The conversation was slowing down. Maybe it was time to amp it up a little.

"You don't look like a doctor, if you don't mind me saying."

"Oh? And, er, what's a doctor supposed to look like?"

"It's not that, it's just you look like a man who's suffered in his work."

John stopped mid-drink then placed his glass down before looking over properly at Sebastian, his expression one of pure curiosity and surprise. John was seeing another observant man… another Sherlock. And like Sherlock, Sebastian was drawing him in like a moth to a flame._ Perfect._

Sebastian smiled. "You been in the Army? Abroad and everything?"

"Afghanistan. H- how do you know?" John stuttered, completely ignoring his drink at this point.

Sebastian's intense eyes stayed trained onto John's ones.

"Oh, only by the lines in your face, the tremors in your hand and the way your hair is cut."

John cleared his throat. "Right. Well, that was rather clever of you."

Sebastian licked his lips and took a sip of his own drink, his voice lowering shortly after. He still hadn't taken his eyes off John. "I'd say so."

The corner of the Army doctor's mouth quirked up into a smile. "You know I've got a friend who's just as observant as you. He knew I was in the Army too."

"Ah, what's his name then?"

John stopped and shook his head. "It's a private job. Can't really mouth off to just anyone."

This was no big loss to Sebastian, he already knew every damn detail. "Ah, shame," he lied, breaking into a grin. "So anyway, what brought you back to London? Injury?"

From there, the conversation took many turns. They spoke about the Army, about London, about women, about good pubs and bars in the immediate area, about holidays and about work – to which Seb kept his answers fairly short. John was reeled in like a fish caught on a hook and Seb was the fisherman, lazily dragging him to the shore of deceit.

After a few more drinks, John was slurring and erupting into high-pitched giggles. Now and again he'd lightly punch Seb's arm, the way a best friend or brother would.

They chatted and joked for a good few hours, but then the bar had to close.  
Both men left, but Sebastian had purposefully been drinking water all night, slyly pretending it was vodka. He was therefore perfectly sober. John, however was shockingly drunk and stumbling from here to there.

"'Ere let me help," Seb said, putting his arm around the shorter man. "You're in no state to get home. Let's get you sober round mine. My place is literally just around the corner. What d'ya reckon?"

"Uh huh. Whadeverrr," John replied, beyond caring at this point. "Y'know, you are a very, very, very good fwend, Mister whatsyourname."

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head. "No worries, buddy."

It wasn't more than five minutes before both men were upstairs in Seb's flat, with Sebastian hovering over John as John lay back on the black leather sofa. He looked bleary-eyed but inviting. Sebastian thought he looked incredibly sexy laid out like this. Sexier than he looked in that picture Jim had given him.

John's shirt was undone at the top and one of his arms was outstretched over his head. He let his eyes flutter shut, alcohol and tiredness overcoming him. Delicious.

Sebastian moved back, bringing out the phone that was in John's pocket, along with his own phone. He found Sherlock's name and number and listed it in his own mobile, then called the consulting detective from an unknown number.

A deep, silky voice answered with a simple, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah yes, this is a friend of John's. He's staying round mine tonight. Had a few too many drinks… you know how it is… nothing big. Just letting you know he'll be back tomorrow."

"Dull."

"Is that okay? You're his flatmate, yes?"

Sherlock ignored him. "Ugh. Please. If this isn't about a case, I'm not interested."

And with that, he hung up. Sebastian let a deep chuckle rumble out of his chest. Wow, no wonder Jim liked that guy. He was a real hot-headed workaholic.

He turned gaze back onto the now sleeping John, watching the rise and fall of his chest and the way he swallowed and sleepily shifted onto his side to get more comfortable.

…

Sebastian had always been a nervous man. He had to be on constant alert in his job, especially since Scotland Yard had been using the great Sherlock Holmes. Otherwise, Seb wouldn't have found the police threatening at all. They were useless. Sherlock, on the other hand, was a force… and he was even more of a force with this loyal little doctor by his side.

…

John awoke a few hours later and Sebastian had to blink to realise he'd been staring all that time, obsessively watching the Army doctor, his nervous ticks getting worse as he'd been waiting for him to wake up.

"Ah. John. Rise and shine."

John sighed and clutched at his head. "Christ."

"You alright, mate?"

"Hm? How much did I drink? Um, what's your name again?"

"You drank too much, I fear. And my name? Sebastian. Surprised you remember meeting me actually."

"No, don't worry, I do. Vaguely." John yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "Did I make a complete tit of myself?"

"Nah, nah, mate. You just – y'know… needed to kip back 'ere."

"Cheers. Time?"

Sebastian checked his watch, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Erm, 2am."

John groaned. "Jesus, no. I'm so sorry, look I'll go… my flatmate, he'll be wondering where I…"

But John was cut short. Sebastian was holding up his phone. "No worries. I called him. Sherlock Holmes, am I correct?"

John swallowed but said nothing.

"It's alright buddy. I've heard of him. Don't know much though. Detective, right?"

"Yeah. How do you know?"

"Your blog. I've only just recognised you!" The lies kept spilling out. "You're the blogger of that brilliant Mr Holmes. I love that blog."

John returned the smile that Sebastian was beaming out.

"Great, well. Thanks Seb. It means a lot. It seems everyone knows of our bloody blog now."

"It's a good thing, trust me. I admire you. You're a strong man, Dr Watson. Strong. Admirable."

John still had the smile on his face, lapping up the compliments. Sebastian detected some bleariness still in his eyes.

"Do you have a lucky woman then, John? A nice bit of skirt?"

John huffed out a laugh. "Um. No. Let's just say my flatmate doesn't tolerate me going out on dates, and when he does, he ruins it for me and the woman later… somehow or other."

Sebastian nodded with an understanding expression and took a breath. "Shame," he said, exhaling heavily, "You're a good-looking man. I'd 'ave ya."

With a roll of his eyes, John placed his hands in front of him as if to make a statement. "I'm not actually gay. I might live with a man. I might document his investigations. He might chase my girlfriends away, but I don't actually want to shag him. Why does everybody think I'm-?"

But Seb cut in. "-Would you though, if you had to? I mean, he's an attractive guy. Bit weird-looking, but attractive... I've seen a picture on your blog. If women got too _tiresome_, you could always… y'know… experiment…"

"If you met Sherlock, you'd understand the meaning of tiresome, believe me."

"You didn't answer my question."

John shook his head and smiled nervously. "I like him. He's my friend… my best friend."

"Not more than that? Listen, you might not be gay, but it doesn't mean you can't fall for a man… One _extraordinary _man."

John didn't say anything. And that spoke volumes.

Sebastian grinned. "You see, I'm not gay, but I love a man. He just happens to be my boss. You know, it's fun… feeling a man, hearing a man, tasting a man. Just once at least. If you can't get it with that detective mate of yours, then…"

Sebastian trailed off and leaned in. He was inwardly surprised to find that John didn't move away. He was still… _stock still_, watching Seb through heavy-lidded eyes. Sebastian could feel the other man's breath, smell the alcohol...

He'd got John right where he wanted him.


End file.
